


Turning tables

by Loveforthestory



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: A tattoo, F/M, Topsy Turvy Challenge, charloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveforthestory/pseuds/Loveforthestory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She knows she has to take a drink if they don't believe her, or maybe they do. Or not? Her drunken mind swirls and she is happily hazily trying to remember the rules of their drinking game."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning tables

A story for the Topsy Turvy Challenge.

* * *

It's is late in the house her mother and Miles have rented in the city for now. How many times their little group wants to kill each other, with looks and words, not an arrow this time, they somehow always gravitate towards each other. Her mother had gone to bed earlier, leaving Charlie with her men, her uncle, his best friend. A bottle. And some free time when neither of them want to make an effort to say goodnight.

It is nights like these, Charlie in between her men, she feels like she can breathe again, just for a while as both men keep an eye on her, not in a way she feels constricted with, and turn out to be quite good company.

The cabinets are a dark wood, organized with Rachel precision as Miles walked behind her in the house on move in day, sighing but still doing as told as both Charlie and Bass had looked at him with a bit of pity and all amusement at the whole picture. Bass broke his records in smiles at one day, Miles might have broken his curse words a day record, no he definitely did.

As long there is booze, their nanny for good behaviour, they all will be fine. A common enemy did the trick too, sending her back on the road with Monroe, no Bass, he is kind of turning into a lot of Bass now, she lazily explores in her mind. Sending her back, on the road, into all kinds of crap that forced her into working with him. Pissing herself of, realising he is not all what met the eye. Although he really has good eyes. As a lazy grin forms around her lips as the booze takes the edges of her restrain on this category of thoughts. The category why Monroe needs to stay Monroe. Because he is not the asshole she once thought, and god, can he rock that leather jacket into walking orgasms yet to happen.

'uhm, earth to Charlie.' Milse says, the booze only magnifying his usual sarcasm.

Charlie slams down her glass in front of her, on the wooden table, which has candles stuck in empty glass bottles.

She knows she has to take a drink if they don't believe her, or maybe they do. Or not? Her drunken mind swirls and she is happily hazily trying to remember the rules of their drinking game.

She does not care, the one thing she knows now is that she has to make sure Miles thinks her next statement is bullshit.

'I have a tattoo.'

Bass huffs at her words, that stupid amount of  _maybe I do want you in my panties_  grin spreading around his features, as he leans back into the kitchen counter on her right as she looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

Then she looks back to Miles.

She just has to win this point and then she is there. Winning from Miles. They really did not talk about what the winner would take home, but looking her uncle in the eyes with her best gotcha smirk, is maybe the best one of them all. No, make that defitnately.

Miles looks at her, up and down, in a amused way.

'No, you don't.' He says absolutely certain, accompanied by another deeper lower voice.

She just outsmarted the manager of interrogantions. It feels kind of good.

'No, you don't.' Bass shakes his head, putting his lips on the bottle, thinking it is a nice try from her, but then he curses at himself for thinking where the hell she could have hidden said tattoo on that delicious bendy curvy trained strong body of her.

'You are four, watching Bugs Bunny or whatever that little idiot was, nonstop and whine about when you get to play with your ballerina shoes and ask us,' he points at Bass and then at himself, 'if we can braid your hair.'

'Dude,' Bass is shaking his head no at this reveal, as his eyes grow a bit darker, as he watches how Charlie looks at him with amusement. Does his brother wants them castrated on the spot?

Charlie has been sitting on the chair, the chair turned, so her arms, elbows and wrists have been lazily resting on the back of the chair. His leather jacket is around the back of the chair, the leather subtlety under her fingers, as she has seen Bass' eyes flick over at her moving over the fabric. She gets up, slowly, pushing herself up from the chair with one leg, as the other flows easily over the seat of the chair. The smile slowly growing around her lips as the blue in her eyes fire at the men in front of her.

'No way,' he growls.

She sees Bass' face drop in front of her. Oh this is going to be good. Very good. Miles' eyes changing into amused playful disbelieve as she moves the shirt over her shoulder, revealing the black lines of a tattoo right on her left shoulder blade.

The branches of a tree, black outlined against her skin. A tiny tree, shaped on her body. Black ink.

'Where in the hell did you get that,' Miles points at it, as he says as he is still trying to decide his brain his working on the fact Charlie outsmarted him, or the fact that his four year old niece that loved glitters and pink now has a tattoo. Fantastic.

'In Chicago.' She blinks once, adding the point from this round up to a total she barely remembers. Point is, she has won. She knows it, the looks on asshole's face and stupid face know it. She is the one with the victory.

She smiles at them.

A win.

A smirk.

Bass shakes his head again, this time with amusement. Leave it up to Charlie to leave their asses stunned. As far as he is concerned, she totally deserved this win.

She walks to Bass, stops right in front of him. Takes the bottle, puts it to her lips and looks him straight in the eye. And when she swallows the burning liquid, she sees him swallow too.

Bass can only think of that lips, on something else,

She raises the bottle before him when she has enough, either from the booze or playing with the big Monroe and turns to walk out of the room. 'I'll take this now.'

* * *

'So, a tattoo huh?' He says, leaning back into the couch, the fire he had just made burning in front of them in the fireplace, as his brother has gone to bed too, and now it is around 4 a.m. as his boots touch the ground and he puts his elbows on his knees, somehow a voice telling him he is walking into a shit field of landmines.

'Yeah, a tattoo.' Charlie says, giving him a briefest of smiles, so fast he is not sure that happened.

It is quiet between the both of them, before she talks again. It is not that uncommon for the both of them to be awake in the middle of the night. Together. It is uncommon however that she keeps on talking.

'It's a reminder of Danny. It's a something to keep him close with me.'

A reminder of the long hours in the forest in Wisconsin with Danny. The roots of the trees strong in the earth. The branches growing, adding another one, giving the other more anchor, build up strength, always moving into more. She remembers getting it, when it was just her, and the lines that went into her skin forever.

And then, she feels how the tears are in her eyes. The booze still takes the edges of the walls she has put around her, but not enough to make her stay in control of what has to stay inside.

Bass looks at her. He keeps his mouth shut, seeing tears in her eyes, as her realises this is the first fucking time he sees those tears. She has gone out of her way to always be strong, composed, in control when in front of him, and after what he did to her with Strausser in Philly, he understands. It is the same thing he would do. She is a fighter, just like him.

'I understand now.' Charlie wipes some tears from her cheek. He looks at her with slow burning eyes.

His shoulders hanging a little bit lower for what can come next. Expecting anything, not quite understanding what is happening here, what she is giving him.

'You and Miles. I get it now. Did for a long time now.'

Bass feels his breath hitch in his throat, as Charlie hears it.

'You are brothers, family. And how much live puts in your way, you are always there, in it together. Even if you are not together.'

She has understood this for quite some time now.

'I did not get it when we walked to Philly. But I get it now. I am glad he has you Bass.'

He looks at her, blinking once before his eyes drown in hers. He only nods. Burning inside with warmth that she understands. He think she did for quite some time now, the way she has accepted him, along with Miles, fought with them, and silently fought for them too.

So, he could do two things now, keep his mouth shut or don't. And since he is not the best at the first part, he talks again.

He moves the sleeve up his arm, showing her burned flesh, there in the cover of the night and the strange safety he feels with her now. To tell her.

'This, under this, there is a tattoo, the same shape and form that is now on your wrists.' He scrapes his throat, touching a topic he knows been there between the both of them, but he never ever mentioned it, although he has seen, she has seen him looking at her right wrists, looking at what is there.

'I drew it once, under a tree, when two boys were still what they were then, as a reminder for both of us, both our names. I got the tattoo when I was twenty two, a reminder of my family, of the people I fought for. Where I came from.'

His words bring more tears to her face, as with the understanding comes the grieve for what he lost, for what Miles and he have been. She is slowly understanding the whole story, not the part of the story she always thought was the whole story. And with the grieve comes the part in her, that always been there, but she thought was dead, bricks collapsed on it like the watch tower that once fell on her.

Charlie moves closer. For ever remembering what it was like to touch the skin of his wide under arm, muscles under the skin, long, strong in front of her.

She touches the tattoo, following it with the tips of her fingers, hidden under the burned skin, but she knows now, it is there. And it is not about the Monroe Republic anymore, it is about family, of something that he carried with him too.

Bass turns to her, feeling how Charlie touches the most intimate part of him, that he carries with her. He swallows tons of grieve and hurt and damage away as she is touching him there. He watches her.

And then, Charlie feels a strong large hand under her wrists, slowly moving her, as Bass' head tilts towards her scar.

In the dark she sees him, before she feels him. And then, he kisses her wrist, her mark.

When Bass wakes up, her place next to him on the couch is empty. The lack of her body weight against his, sends some weird feeling into his gut. Somehow, he had fallen asleep, when he had realised she had too, when they had not talked anymore and just watched to flames. This is fucking stupid. Bass remembers last night. And he has been fucking astonished by the fact that somehow after all the shit with Davis in that church they somehow stayed on the same side, he once told her about, around another fire they were on for now. But after last night, he knows they did not only stay at the same side, she has somehow found a mode to look past the man she calls Monroe, and sees him. Bass. The man he was so long ago. He is not surprised.

Maybe it had to be her. Maybe if anyone would be able to track a path to him, it would be her.

That was a man people confided in, fought back to back with, shared a bottle and bullshit with him, included him.

She did all those things last night.

And then, she understood, the bigger fucking part of him.

Miles.

He moved a hand over his face. The house was still quiet, the hour still early. He let out a deep sigh, stretched his shoulders as he moves his ass off the couch.

When he finds her, with tow cups of coffee in his hands, it is near an opening between the trees. He feels the light hit his face, as he remembers the early mornings with Miles. Going to school. Going to their favourite shed that serves as their secret hiding place, or pirate base or batman cave outside town. Walking home in the sun after a night at the local bar, maybe with a girl or two with them. Emma smiling in the sun at him and Miles before Class. His mother waving him and Miles goodbye before he knew she would back into the house, clean up the kitchen and be there again when he came home, with Miles, for homework, his sisters on the phone with some boys, when he would go this his room with Miles, talking about all kinds of ways they could get into shit up to base for the very first time, after a long night on the road in Miles'car. Getting into Miles' car before the very last time, on the morning, early light, when Ben would call one more time, where he would lightheartedly flirt with some girl one more time before he would never sit with and next to his brother in that car, one more time.

He sits down next to her, like he did so many times with Miles. He hands her the cup of coffee. He cans see the headache she has, stubbornly pushing the hangover away, just like his brother.

'So, you braided my hear?' Her voie is damn sexy in the morning.

'Sure did.'

'With Miles.'

'Hell yeah.' His vice sratchy from booze, emotions and morning.

She moves her head to the sun and laughes.

'Well, if you are manly enough, you can get away with all that shit.'

His cockiness layered with gentleness reaches her, as she still playfully bats him against his knee.

She miles at him. A real true smile. For him.

Their knees touch, as Bass pulls his legs up, elbows on it. Her legs crossed before her. Her elbow touches his arm, the one with the brand. Her scar close to him.

Charlie feels him steady next to her. Realising somehow right it feels to have his tall frame next to hers. The sun now blazing above the horizon, as the sky changes from orange to gold.

Bass moves one of his hands. He slowly puts in on her shoulder, the one shoulder where she carries so much with her. The fact that she leans into it, almost brings him to his fucking knees in his heart.

As Bass puts his hand on her shoulder, Charlie feels the pressure of his hand. Giving her a moment of peace. Knowing how fucked up it is, Bass knows her loss. It is complex, messed up, but so is all of this.

But he knows, she knows, they carved a way through a wall between them. Making room in it, maybe even for each other.

He watched the part of her, last night with compassion that is so much like Ben, that both Miles and him feared would be lost.

He knows now she will be all right as they both sit there.

Share pain, as they know now, they are not as alone as they once thought.

And share a sunrise, share a warm cup of coffee in their hands, as they share warmth sitting close together.

* * *

 from Love


End file.
